


You're Not That Much Taller Than Me

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Ender's Game - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: do not read, garbage, kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrival of the IF had rocked the already shaky foundations of their world. The nobility of Westeros had only just made a tenuous peace with the idea of Middle Earth, a continent full of dwarves, elves, orcs, goblins, and other unbelievable creatures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not That Much Taller Than Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is not good but it was my final assignment for creative writing and I wrote it in one day and did NOT edit it. Eat my garbage. Just do it.

The arrival of the IF had rocked the already shaky foundations of their world. The nobility of Westeros had only just made a tenuous peace with the idea of Middle Earth, a continent full of dwarves, elves, orcs, goblins, and other unbelievable creatures. Tyrion, for his part, had laughed bitterly when he saw his first delegation of dwarves. Across the sea, dwarves were a noble, powerful race, who none would dare cross. It had seemed a cruel twist of irony that he, an ugly, stunted, unloved thing, would be called by the same name.

The dwarves, led by Gimli son of Gloin, were half curious and half offended by him. He was no dwarf. He spoke no Khuzdul, had never felt the connection to stone and gems and creating that they did. Yet, it seemed that no offense was meant by their calling him a dwarf, as this strange new land was inhabited solely by men. This lead to all sorts of curious stares and awkward social blunders when delegations of all three races had convened to make peace. 

That was seven years ago now. A shaky truce had been achieved between all the nations. And, once again, the world they knew was to be split open at the seams. When the great metal ships had come down from the sky, pandemonium broke loose. The people of King's landing still remembered the taste of dragon fire, and the thunder of wings overhead, blocking out the sun and raining down the fury of Daenerys Targaryen, come to reclaim her seat. Although that battle had been won, with the help of Middle Earth, the people still lived in fear of beasts coming from the sky. 

Tyrion could see perfectly from his solar, as the craft descended outside the walls of the city. He had been sitting in council with Gimli, discussing trade between Erebor and King’s Landing, and getting pleasantly drunk. All thought of trade was now chased from his mind as he witnessed this tremendous intrusion on the fabric of his reality.

“We must go, now! There’s likely a party riding out to meet them and I will not miss it,” Cried Gimli.

As they rushed through the corridors and down steep steps, Tyrion’s legs cramped and ached and he was left trailing behind the taller dwarf. They finally reached the stables though, and mounted the towering horses with some assistance, welcomed by Tyrion, and grudgingly accepted by Gimli.  
Apprehension twisted in their guts as their party rode through the squalor of the lower town. Their group consisted of Tyrion, Gimli, an elf lord Tyrion had never spoken to before,some minor knights, and a company of gold cloaks. Once they reached the gates, fast shut, Tyrion called out.

“I don’t see how we’re to meet our new friends with the gates drawn. You could hardly have a conversation through them.”  
“Are you so sure they are your friends?” Gimli muttered.  
“Almost certainly not,” Tyrion replied.

The opened for them and they rode across. They then crested a hill, and were suddenly upon the strange vessel. 

Already, there were people swarming around the legs of it, dressed strangely and moving in the orderly, efficient fashion of a war camp. They called out as they saw their party approaching, and some of them shouldered strange black things, held by straps across their shoulders. Tyrion could only assume they were some sort of weapon, from the way they were brandished, though how effective they were was highly suspect. 

One of the strangers stepped forward to meet them, as they reigned in their horses and came to a stop. Several of the gold cloaks had their hands gripping the pommels of their swords. A nervous bunch, the lot of them. Gimli spoke first.

“Name yerself and why ye’ve come.”  
The stranger smiled wryly and answered,  
“I’m Major Tajir, of the IF. We’re here on a peaceful, diplomatic mission.”  
“And I’m Bean.”

Tyrion startled at the sound of a second voice. He looked for the source and found a child, standing next to Tajir, who looked vaguely irritated with the boy. He was shocked. A child, so small, only at the other man’s waist, and speaking out so boldly. He must have been some little lordling, playing at diplomacy. Though, the gleam in his small, dark eyes was unsettlingly intelligent. He spoke again.

“You think maybe we should go and sit down somewhere Major? This probably won’t be a short conversation.”

He then turned and walked away, leaving the rest to follow. He faintly heard the Major offer to have someone hold onto their horses. Bean knew he was undercutting the Major’s authority, and he certainly wouldn’t thank him for it later. Served him right, though. The entire journey out to the planet, he had been nothing but condescending. Bean may be used to being underestimated and resented because of his age, didn’t mean he had to like it.

He made his way as quickly as he could to the spare, functional command center off towards the middle of the hubbub. He seated himself before the rest even got there. They filed in, one by one. 

Tajir glared at him as he walked past and seated himself next to him. He didn’t pay attention to whatever he hissed into his ear, too busy observing their guests. First came the tall one. He moved with unnatural grace, like someone constantly moving in zero-g. Then three men, seeming much clunkier in comparison, followed. Then came the real surprise. When on horseback, it had been hardly noticeable, but the next two men were obviously very, very short. The first’s face was obscured by a thick red beard, threaded with grey. His nose was prominent and his build sturdy. He was surprisingly proportionate for a man so small. He had been the one to speak out at the first meeting. The second was more typical of people who suffered dwarfism back on earth. His body wasn’t quite proportionate and he walked with a short, awkward step because of it. He was almost white blond and had striking eyes, one green, the other black. They were followed by a company of guards who all wore gold cloaks and were decked out like knights from an old tale. Everyone except the guards took seats.

Gimli was surprised at the keen intelligence on the boy’s face. Bean, was it? He obviously vexed the older man, Tajir. He found it surprising that such a young boy would be allowed to sit in peace talks, let alone disrespect who Gimli could only assume was his father As he took his seat he commented on this.

Tajir turned almost purple, and the boy spoke up, trying to hold in laughter.  
“The Major isn’t my father. I’m here as a consultant and strategist.”  
“You?” The elf lord asked, “I may not be entirely sure of how Men age, but I’m fairly certain you are still a child.”  
"I'm thirteen, as a matter of fact"

Gimli heard Tyrion make a quiet sound of surprise next to him. Bean looked to be about to say something, when Tajir took over again.

“Bean is one of the most decorated graduates of our Battle School. My superiors thought it best he be sent along on this mission. I assure you, he will be nothing but professional.”

This last bit was directed at Bean himself, as a chastisement. Tajir clearly did not approve of Bean’s presence, and only accepted it grudgingly.

“Don’t worry Major, I’ll be good. I’ve no interest in winning another intergalactic war.”

Tyrion saw what he had done. The boy was thirteen, looked all of nine, and was already maneuvering to impress foreign dignitaries. He wanted to see what else the boy would do. And, so he dived right in.

The next several hours were spent in politicking. Tajir was condescending and ham-handed in his attempts at peace. He offered knowledge, and technology, but clearly held them all in disdain. Gimli had to subtly corrected by Tyrion and the elf lord, again and again, as he almost lost his cool in the face of Tajir’s distaste. Bean handled himself well, he kept himself mostly under a cool blanket of indifference, only allowing his annoyance to slip when Tajir had made a blunder. Tyrion was mostly amused, he knew these people would not be going anywhere. So, he focused mainly on keeping their impact on his people’s resources minimal, while gaining as much from them as possible. Around two hours in, Tajir sent one of his men to go and collect some lunch for them. The food was spare, more like war rations than anything, but the delegates accepted this with good grace.

The negotiations went long into the evening, but they were finally done with. Tyrion left the tent after everyone else. There, he found Bean waiting for him.

“You handled yourself well in there.”  
“Did you expect differently, Lord Tyrion?”  
“It wouldn’t be the first time a lordling was allowed to make a mess of negotiations because of his station.”  
“I’m not a lordling.”  
“Oh? What are you then?”  
“I’m a commander.”  
“At thirteen? Most wouldn’t follow a boy of your age.”  
“And most wouldn’t listen to a man of your size. Not here, anyways.”

That stung a bit, being talked down to by a thirteen year old.

“You know, you’re not actually much taller than me.”  
“And you’re not much smarter than me. How old I am’s got nothing to do with it.”  
“I see that.”

They stood together in silence for a beat. Then,

“You know the major won’t just let the peace rest. He’s going to mess up, and we’ll be forced to act.”  
“If you’re so smart, then why don’t you put a stop to it? You seem to cow him well enough.”

Bean smiled a bit.

“We’ll see.”

He turned to leave, and Tyrion called out to him,

“What will you do? When the peace breaks?”  
“What I was born to do. I’ll win.”

He walked away, then, and Tyrion was left to puzzle that over. Was it arrogance, or just certainty? He supposed he would find out, when the time came.


End file.
